Les Aventures de Cora Lou

Bonne Anniversaire, Papa!

2009-03-09T16:24:00.001-07:00

Dearest Daddy,
Happy 60th birthday! I thought that I would follow the blog bandwagon and write a nice little note dedicated to all things Bainard. You also asked me to write something on my blog for your birthday, but I didn’t really want to recount my experiences in DC (they’re all tinged with too much of my sardonic realism). Who wants to hear about DC yuppy zombies when we can talk about the good things of Papa. Therefore, I’d like to say a few of my favorite memories of Dad from years past
Rewinding a bit, when I was little, I think Dad must have visited Albertson’s at least once a day. They all knew his name there, for sure (as the Subway lady still does), and I’d always beg Dad to tag along primarily to spend time with him and secondarily to yank some candy with my pity face. Dad, you always made grocery shopping an adventure to enjoy! And of course it wasn’t always Albertson’s; it was the produce market, or any sort of interesting place….you have such a love for exploring things and a real love of nature, which I have always admired.
I remember when I was a teenager, Dad loved to have a bit of an after dinner drink (cognac or some brandy or Maker’s Mark). One night after I came home from a soiree or something and you said, “Glencora, you have to try this raisin and brandy mixture!” When other parents are shielding their children from the evils of alcohol (what a myth), you were not only getting me to drink it, but put it in my food! I was excited until I actually tried it. Raisins and brandy were not that exciting, but you were thrilled to share them with me. I think now I could really go for a few.
On my way back from dance classes (which were everyday), Dad would pick me up and we’d listen to classical music on the ride home. There was always a storm of traffic, but I was delighted to sit next to Papa while he drove the Honda back (and I’m sure he was imagining it was a racecar) and we’d relax to some music. Thank you, Dad. Your calm and gentle nature has always made me feel so loved, and it’s a gift that I hope I’ve taken a bit of.
I apologize for the sentimental note, but I just wanted to tell the world how lucky I am to have such an amazing father! Love you, Papa!
Cora Lou

Snow Day = Imagination land adventure!

2009-01-28T05:56:00.000-08:00

It's day two of snow day and that means round two of spending the day either writing, catching up on emails, or trying to make it to the gym in the snow :(
Yesterday I thought it was dazzling to run 5 miles in the snow; this morning, I felt better imagining that I was a bear buried deep in the heart of the earth and not emerging for a few weeks. Well, except to get some coffee and to use the restroom.
Nevertheless, in this cavern of creativity I have produced (as you you'll see) a new album of pictures of the house which include a pictures of the front of our house. I also decided to spend some time with an empty canvas and some pastels creating four skinny trees. I'm not a real artist (I'm too impatient), but it's delightful to imagine that I am :) Also, this free time has given me a little bit of space to start thinking about writing my next children's book. This past summer I had been trying to get my mind around an idea to write about, but it just wouldn't flow. My first book was called "Cora Lou and Veronique: Twin Tales from the Bayou," and now I think that I'm going to continue in this vein. However, this time I'd like to call it "Cora Lou and the Cordon Bleu." This one's still about Cora Lou (an adventurous little girl who is a bit spacey but spunky) and how she accidently gets sent to the Cordon Bleu. It's in rhyming couplets, and I'm hoping to write it, illustrate it, and at least publish it for my own sake. If anyone knows a good place to publish books, please help me out (I know of a place in Dallas, but not in DC.
Oh! And I should tell you--I didn't make it to the inauguration. Gasp, gasp! I know. I missed out on Elizabeth Alexander's lovely conversation with a wall. I know. I did actually do something very un-Glencora which was the March for Life on January 22nd. Despite all its naive, boisterous, and in your face participants, it was still nice to march with nuns and priests and all other people who choose all life instead of some. That was truly lovely.
Also, I finally made it over to the National Gallery of Art (the East side, I've been to the West side numerous times). I think the pieces of work that I enjoyed the most was Rothko's paintings. I don't recall what their titles were, but they were the quintessential abstract paintings, and I believe the best. Anyhow, I'll let you all enjoy your snow or un-snow day. I send my love and I'll be posting real soon. Love love love, Cora Lou

New Year's Resolutions

2009-01-19T18:42:00.000-08:00

I apologize for getting people excited about changing the blog's name. I sort of like the title and the fact that its in French probably makes me sound more important and cleverer.er. So, here I am back in Washington, D.C. in the cold and wondering what the hell I'm doing here? I wish there was something here to lure me back like twinkies or possibly twinkies with glitter. But I think all the twinkies are wrapped with a picture of Obama.
Being in this 20's limbo, I've been thinking about all things I shall resolve to do this year (as I did last year, last month, this morning), and I think these resolutions perhaps may answer my questions.
By the way, I've sent in all the 8 applications to graduate school, so I'm in the waiting period before I hear back from different schools as to their decisions. I applied to Southern schools for the most part, simply because I can stand bleeding liberals, but I can't stand below freezing temperatures. Can you imagine the combination of the two? A nightmare, most certainly.
I've applied to LSU, Duquesne, UT at Austin, Vanderbilt, Washington U at St. Louis, UC at Boulder, SMU, University of Arizona at Tucson. I'd be more than happy to get into any of them--they all offer good programs, good scholarships, and good cities. The coolest, I suppose, would be to get into UT at Austin, their program in modern poetry is great, and the city is just full of coolness. We'll see.

So the resolutions:
(1) keep the blog name, (sorry Victor)
(2) take some hip hop classes, and consider my dream of becoming a Britney backup dancer.
(3) Check out the DC museums...they're free!!!!!!
(4) Use my French knowledge and start cooking some good meals (well, as long as its not duck thats been drowned by cognac :(
(5) Seeing a new indie flick and maybe writing a review of it on my blog
(6) Write about any good new poets or poems that I come across

Would it be annoying to comment on movies and poetry (this is a question to the general public)? Well, I haven't come across any good poetry today, surely tomorrow will be a new day.

I'll think about going in to see the inauguration and maybe posting some pictures :)
Enjoy your day off tomorrow.
Ciao ciao,
Cora Lou

Blog Name Change

2008-12-27T19:26:00.000-08:00

So, I apologize if I haven’t written anything in, like, forever. But, I’ve run out of anything clever to say. Not to mention, the time that I could have been writing, I spent watching on YouTube clips of fat cats watching TV/ and fat cats watching YouTube—hilarious and fun for the whole family. Except for the cat; he may be offended or he may get ideas.
Well, now that the year is over, I suppose I should change the name of my blog, since Im not in France anymore. So, I thought Id throw out some ideas for a blog name and you can vote and tell me the best:
(1) Knock, knock its Glencora!
(2) The Chronicles of a Kindergarten Cop/Italian teacher
(3) Great Blarney, its Bloggin’ with Glencora!
(4) 23 and no way out…
(5) Sunshine magic blog
(6) meow meow meow
(7) Tales from the crypt-ic girl, Glencora
(8) The Adventures of Cora Lou
(9) Since I never became a flygirl on In Living Color….
(10) 13 ways of looking at a blog girl

Good luck with this one!
If you've got any suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Grazie e Buon Natale!

I pittori per Mama

2008-11-04T12:16:00.000-08:00

Mama, these are you for you. Sorry they are devoid of people; I think our house is sad about that, too.

La Prima di novembre

2008-10-31T10:23:00.000-07:00

Ciao, ciao! I'm sorry I havent written in about a few ages, but Ill go ahead and give y'all the scoop on life in Wheaton. Ok, so the last time I wrote (which was a bit too melancholic..sorry), I had been working at a Greek diner with a Greek family. Definitely a wonderfully nice family, but the work just wasn't quite for me. There's only so long that you can hold a smile on your face and then you start seeing weird smile wrinkles, and when you're not smiling there's a pain in your cheeks. Probably a bad sign. I suppose cheerleaders get used to it and perhaps even camp counselors--but not me. Although the doctors in Marseilles claimed that I came out the womb as a clown, I beg to differ. (Why wasn't Veronica the clown!?!?!?!)
Well, Washington DC is just beautiful right now, despite the fact that I like to think of this city as a turtle shell without the turtle, or simply the city without a soul. The leaves are absolutely stunning and our little house has turned out just swimmingly. Veronica ended up decorating the whole house, so we have some really cool designs everywhere. For instance, our den is a mock Florentine sort of room; our kitchen is an orange and blue repsite(not for them Gators), and a few other rooms are very very artsy. And then there's the basement where I live (along with a few spider cricket things....ewww). Sometimes I feel like oscar the grouch, except I dont quite have the privacy of a trash can. Veronica's usually reading her aldaily.com while I grumble in from downstairs, and Veronica looks at me then pans over to the trash can and back to me again. I think its her symbol for, "go, git in there!"
Im also in the midst of applying to graduate school for...guesss....guesss......cmon, this is so easy: ENGLISH!!! well, maybe comp. lit, but who woulda thunk, huh? Ive been taking the GRE's like they were candy. And I'm also writing all these statements of intent. Im trying to think of an introduction for each, and I was thinking about starting with something like this:

"From the beginning of time, there was literature. Literature is very important. Who ever doesn't think so, raise your hand. That's what I thought. I not only believe literature is important, but I also eat, breathe, and drink literature. Like a fish (metaphor). That's why you need me. Glencora C.L.C. Cowan"

That sounds pretty good, huh?
Anyhow, right now since I'm not working at the diner, I've been teaching children K-4 beginner's Italian and helping with the first graders and Kindergarten. I got a picture of a family of gourds the other day. One's name is Ruby and the other's is Max. And also, I got a picture that said, "Ihetmissescowin" and on the same picture there was "Iluvmsssscowen," so I suppose its already the rollercoaster of emotions time in their lives. For Halloween, I brought them some lollipops and made ghosts out of them, and they all told me a story about their ghosts named Giovanni. In honor of Ghost Giovanni, I'd like to say, Happy Halloween, Happy All Saints and All Souls, and much love to you all! ciao ciao! Cora Lou

Sunday in Wheaton; a Coda for August

2008-09-01T19:53:00.001-07:00

You never become fully accustomed to the stream. Yes, fidgeting in a car, eating a handful of walnuts with those Omega 3 fats (the government says its healthy), measuring the coffee, brushing, sneezing, breathing--it's all routine that seems to constitute a normative if not comfortable blanket of life to wrap and unwrap yourself with according to the temperature. Sometimes even the Mexican men hooting and hollering at you because you decided to wear that pique red scarf (with the tortuous golden waves), well, that too molds to your memory as just another step of your daily strides.
But today I caught from the corner of my eyes the gargantuan beggar standing on the median. No doubt, he frequently looms over the cars while his eyes like burning black coals try to pierce through the reflection upon their windows. Most people don't get scared they simply think, "What an awfully annoying giant." I'm not quite sure why today the scene caused me to glance away from counting the wrinkles in my hands. Usually I simply observe the world outside the window, like a camera which has no insides--just takes and produces. It doesn't need to tell its own story; it has none, except for its mechanical birth from a faraway factory. Nevertheless, today, I caught that image. The poor gargantuan soiled man, and it wasn't the pitiful circumstance he was in (I've seen beggars all over Europe, and some have had much worse ailments, including a drunkard from Rouen whose diet consisted of all things--champagne); no, in fact it was the precise look upon his face. There it was for a moment, the look of being utterly lost and foreign. He amidst the sea of cars was trapped and rendered incapable of speech. As he inched a bit further from one car, another machine zoomed by unaware of this tree-like homeless man. From the startle of the cacophony of the honking car, I saw in my mind a moment of my former self in France. As I had elevated from the depths of Gare de St. Lazare, I stood in the midst of Paris a few times not knowing where to go, where I may end up at the night's commencement, or how to ask, "Help, please?" The Parisians armored themselves in slate grays with trench coats and pea coats that offered no glimpse of brightness but simple and dark impenetrable lines. As long dark trousers trampled the cold wet ground near me, my eyes glazed over the enormous city and my ears heard only a foreign buzz that mimicked the cries of an army of insects. Its strange about suffering; I wonder whether if just knowing that others have and will always suffer makes the load easier. Simply recalling that infinitesimal suffering of my life in France inextricably linked me to a strange, overweight, smelly old homeless man. I may have felt kinder towards him, and it may have gathered a few moments of sympathy, but what of him? If others empathize with the suffering, do those thoughts go unheard as bootless cries towards heaven? Do we regard him as you would seeing a three-legged puppy in a cage? Or do we really not understand that we’re in that cage, too? There must be a chain of suffering that brings us together as we walk blinded, foreign and weary towards something beautiful and good. Because there the tree-like man burgeons in my recollection as a contretemps to the daily flow of bland comfort and self interest. I hope one of those cars opened the gates of its windows and let flood out to that man a kind remark, a wink, or even a damn good cheeseburger.

More camino pictures

2008-08-20T06:18:00.001-07:00

Buongiorno, famiglia e amici!
I have a few other pictures that a dear friend of mine named Iggy took. He's possibly one of the best photographers we met along the way and he wasn't a shutterbug!
ANyhow, Veronica, Therese and I are getting settled into our new little yellow home outisde of DC. Vern's working diligently on organizing the world, starting with the bathroom and working her way towards medieval poetry. Therese is getting ready to teach lil children the ways of Huck Finn and other wily characters. And, I am being a wily character. So maybe Therese will dedicate a 5 minutes about me in one of her classes or a comment under her breath such as, "That Glencora...she didnt even put the cap on the toothpaste. so wily. soooo wily."
My American life has resumed full speed ahead and Im working at a nearby diner and taking dance classes. RIght now, Im looking forward to the fall season and apple picking. Or something similiar to that. Much love to you all! Cora Lou

Pictures for the time being

2008-07-16T19:29:00.000-07:00

Ok, Im going to recount some "happenings" in the next blog. But for the time being, here's a few pictures to tide you over. love from the power-mongering capital of USA!

Day 1 to Day 4 of the Pilgrimage

2008-06-30T17:55:00.000-07:00

St. Jean Pied de Port: Day one was intiation by fire, or at least sweat. I think our hardest physical efforts were on the very first day. So, I suppose, if you just want a "trial" of the camino, then this first day's not quite the best example. Nevertheless, we cheerily trekked up those 30km and came across cows big as the gods and sheep's "bah's" as harmonious as a The Magic Flute! As we said "au revoir" to France, we stumbled into Spain's austere and dark ethos (even from the border it changed from rolling hils to dark and mysterious forests).However, the energy of the first day sustained each pilgrim's own uncertainty about the path: we all began this walking journey and we would walk it together. Spaniards even begged of us to eat their food! There was something amazingly like Dante's Purgatorio about this embarkment of the journey---we all were like flocks of birds fluttering towards Christ. Finally, we also slept our first night "a la pelegrin" or with some 100 pilgrims who made every imaginable noise during their sleep. It didn't matter, though. We earned that rest.
Roncesvalles: Our second day, we met a girl named Megan, but I insisted on calling her Meggy (which Im not so sure she liked that) and she walked with the three of us to the next town. This day wasn't nearly as taxing on our bodies and we even had a lovely picnic in a nearby river and medieval bridge (with Spanish wine, which is just buono!) When we reached Larrasuona, the lady told us that we were the last chicas to get a place to sleep in the refuge, fortunately. After showering in a communal shower, we decided to lighten the spirits of some tired pilgrims by playing some cards. From there, we met a fun Lithuaian named Eigmanus, and we were rewarded chocolate for our mad card skills.
Larrasuona- And the walk from Larrasuona was rather rainy, if I recall correctly. Usually I have an easy time praying to God when people are kind to one another and we smile a lot and laugh and all that polite bolognie. So, it must have been God talking to me through the mud because I would say (handsdown) the muddy sections of the camino were the most difficult to get through. And I think they were particularly difficult for Therese and Veronica to listen to my constant bellowing. Nevertheless, we walked for 3 hours in the rain, near traffic and on rolling hills until we came to the walled and medieval town of Pamplona.

A Recount of the Pilgrimage--the Beginning Chapter

2008-06-27T08:15:00.000-07:00

Hello, family! I apologize for not writing for what may seem like forever; however, I just returned to the states from Italy and I'd like to begin and explain this wonderful journey Veronica, Therese Arbery and myself have made.

The Pilgrimage to Santiago
The entire way from the beginning of May 15th until the discovery of the Santiago cathedral has been quite a whirlwind. In short, the city is supposed to contain the remains of St. James after he was sailed there by a stone boat from Jerusalem. The camino, or the trail marked by yellow arrows, has been the way of penitant people, criminals, people from walks of life (in fact) for two centuries. Therefore, we decided we would take a break from the quick pace of everyday affairs in the States (and Rome, for me) and walk all day long. However, walking slowly doesn't benumb the pace of life. With each step, in fact, we tread on new territory for us and old territory for millions of pilgrims. Sweat, blood, burns, searing pains, and aches littered our pilgrimmage each an every day. People do assume that this must be a spiritual journey, and it necessarily is because your body cries for rest and relaxation while your spirit leans toward Santiago. Therese, Veronica and I were 3 young naive women along the trail amidst the hords of old and determined pilgrims from Germany, Italy, France, Canada and Spain (for the most part...there are people from all over the world walking this!). We began with the notion that this pilgrimmage would be a Catholic pilgrimage, that is one constantly filled with spoken prayer and of course we were a bit shocked at the reality of it. Nevertheless, the pilgrims we met were all open to the spiritual effects of walking the entire pilgrimage. Walking all day necessarily implies the time to contemplate your life or simply to face this earth in solitude, anyhow. All three of us girls walked from St. Jean Pied de Port (which is at the foot of the Pyranees) and ended near the west coast of Spain which comes to about 480 miles or so.
(In the next few weeks, Ill give an account city by city; I didn't take many pictures, because they truly can't describe the nature of the walk. Words will have to suffice.)

2008-04-21T12:13:00.000-07:00

Dearly beloved family and friends,
Ciao bellisimi! Its the end of April and the end of French life as I have been living in Santa Marinella, a beach right outside of Rome. Im sharing a little "hobbit hole" (that is a very tiny house) with my dear friend Kate Ramsay, and we've been enjoying the sun, the pasta and well, of course, bella Roma! I think it was a sign to me that whenever I had the opportunity to have a vacation from Rouen or teaching in France, the first place I would think of going to is Rome. THere's still the dirty Tevere and the beggers galore, but the churches are just absolutely stunning. The cathedrals in France are intricate and melancholic which works perfectly for them. However, the churches here are just heart stopping; I mosied on into Santa Maria sopra Minerva (that is a church built over a temple to the goddess of Minerva) and who should happen to be buried there, but my patron saint, St. Catherine of Siena. I apologize for not writing any sooner, but I've been terribly busy with working and living life up to the fullest here:) There's no place like Rome. God bless and I've got a few more weeks before the pilgrimmage, so Ill write before that great long journey on foot. All my love, Glencora

My fellow English teacher is a rock star!

2008-03-21T00:46:00.000-07:00

In France, I work with about 10 other English professors, and one of them, Franck Gilet, is the lead singer of his band Camille Sol. He's the guy who makes sure I don't fall into the deep end in France :) Both he and his wife, Betty, have ensured that my stay in France is "cool." Please check out his website, and you can even download some of the songs.
http://www.myspace.com/camillesolofficiel

On another note, I have been trying to get over the post-marathon flu (your body gets pretty weak after running for 26.2 miles), so my Easter will be bunny shaped noodles in soup, perchance? I wish you all a blessed Easter! much love, Cora Lou

London, France, Rome...Where is home?

2008-03-18T15:04:00.000-07:00

Alors, I returned from a lovely trip to London with my dear friend, Amy Turner who is living there right now as as an adventuresome and daring UD postgrad. Let's see, since March 1st, I went to Lisieux and met up with Amy and her roommate, Mary and trekked around. And then March 7th- March 10th, I took a dandy ol' flight over to the English side of Europe, straight into cheeky London.
First, Ill go ahead and explain my trip to Lisieux. The town is a small and lovely countryside town in Normandy and it boasts of many fromageries, cows and cider places. The three of us just spent the day going to the place where Therese had a vision of Mary and a nearby church. Not to mention, we had a fantastic picnic a la baguette and brie. ahhh, the simple pleasures in France--they never compare! I entertained the ladies over at my humble abode (which resembles an IKEA dekked out pad) and then sent them on their merry way.
Its springtime in Rouen and the cherry blossoms seem not to mind the eternal rain showers here; I think if it rains anymore here, the faces of the French people may change from frowns to melting faces. If only I knew the secret to making them smile!
Ok, so onto my London trip; I took a nice long half day's journey by flight to visit my friends in London and I arrived to the place where the metro's called the tube, people go to the "loo," and they say "pardon" instead of, "move out da way!" My friend Amy so graciously accepted me into her lovely little British chamber, even with a little gift of special Cadbury's chocolate! So, while I was there, we tasted all the delicious and completely unBritish foods at the market, then we walked around London...saw the National gallery for free and then whew! fell asleep! On Sunday, six international ladies (Amy's friends, myself and the head honcho at the Ashwell House) ventured over to Windsor castle and spent the day relaxing and peeking at Eaton boys (you know, those famous longtail coat wearers who sing in choirs and crap like that). Then, as only logical for a traveler as myself, spent the night in the London airport and booked it home to Rouen.
But, I only came home for 2 days because on Thursday I left for Rome to visit my best friend and future roommate in Rome, Kate Ramsay. Her family gave me this trip as a birthday gift, and they only asked in return that I run 26.2 miles. No biggie, huh? Actually, what happened is that I had registered to run the Rome marathon, but decided in January that I couldnt do it due to the immense training involved. But! The Ramsays convinced me once I got to Rome that I must run it....I mean everyone else was, why shouldnt I? So I did and it wasn't too bad.Katie and I danced a lot during the run, and I collected an olive branch along the way. I received a medal (as everyone does when they finish) and everyone who saw this fantastic medal said, "You won?" and my response with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other, "Yeah, and I didn't train at all." I spent the rest of the time eating, playing speed Scrabble, and speaking lots and lots of English. I glutted myself on English (I wonder is that considered language gluttony?) Che bella viaggia!
Anyhow, its back to France for 2 more weeks and I think Im ready for it; It was St. Patrick's day and I tried to pinch a friend because he wasn't wearing green. Bad move. The French don't flirt like that. Its either look sexy and underfed while smoking a cigarette or have eyes like Amelie and be cute. but, please, no pinching. and I was stupid enough to giggle. He just blankly stared at me and said, "oh, that's cute." Suddenly, I became a three year old who somehow mistook people for pincushions. AWesome! Its ok, I told myself, because when I come back to the States, I can pinch whomever I please. Until then, Ill have to pinch myself. Bonne nuit! Glencora

Last week in February

2008-02-29T10:07:00.000-08:00

Alors, its my free Friday in Rouen (since I work a hefty 3 days a week) and I decided to make a day trip to the little port town of Dieppe. Not surprisingly, Dieppe has quite a history of melancholic artists. For instance, you'll see the dazzling pictures of Giverny by Monet that resemble the effect on the eye--a firework display of vibrancy, ambience, and, yes, even softness. But then you get a Pisarro work depicting Dieppe, which of course looks like a gray, blue, green mishmash of landscape and sky. To me it rather resembles the result of a 5 year old mixing too many playdoughs for his own good. Donc, Dieppe still handles it's charm quite well (as do almost all French Norman towns). I actually enjoyed roaming the beach, even though by the end of the day, I started muttering curse words because of the endless rain. Gosh, it always rains here. And its not like a deluge, which I think I could enjoy. Its soft rain which just annoys me even more.
This week in the chapter of Glencora life consisted of teaching children about the differences between American restaurants and French restaurants ("No, we don't only eat cheeseburgers") and coming home to free online SouthPark episodes. Pretty sweet. Yes, this is what post-grad life has come to. Nah, c'est pas vrai. I've actually spent a lot of time exploring the cathedrals nearby (the ROuen cathedral is endlessly stunning and intricate) and of course, visiting my dear ol' buds at the Jean D'Arc church. I also had a fantastic Wednesday break with two other assistants, Lucy and Veronique, as we pretended that spring had actually come sooner than we expected (yes, we tried to do the picnic thing, but we just ended up with wet bottoms and frowns).
I also learned that as much as I try to do the French cuisine thing, I always end up baking chocolate chip cookies. They are so good. I don't care what party you're at. Chocolate chip cookies for all, I say.
Ok, other than that, Im deciding whether or not to run the Rome marathon (Ive been pretend training for quite a while now) and looking to visit with a few friends in Lisieux tomorrow. 5 more weeks to teach in France and then its time to move on to Italia! Ta ta for now! Bisous et baci! Cora Lou

My two week vacation to Rome and Portugal

2008-02-23T02:59:00.000-08:00

Everything incredibly annoying about the French (which includes the insistence on cheese AFTER the meal and an over abundance of poodles in the supermarket) can be dropped for this nice little winter break that they insist upon in February. Well, Ive been given 2 weeks of paid vacation and the first week, I went where my little Cowan heart led me--straight to Rome. After sneaking out of my apartment, I reached Rome and was besotted with sunlight and old memories. When I first arrived to Rome, the UD campus so generously took my nomad ass into their condo-style Due Santie sanctuary. And Lo and behold, the first person I encountered was my good ol' running buddy, Angela Cuba, or as I call her Smange.
Smange is a little fireball of a Texan; she runs like a wolf, eats like a wolf, but she's got the frame of a child Kenyan. Everytime I see her, I know my stomach will be aching from laughter and from stories that range from Communist smurfs to running adventures in Dallas. She ran cross country with me at UD and we did a "one-two punch" as the reports said. I think we just knew how to git 'em (according to Smange). Well, the first thing I did in Rome, of course, was to take my fellow cross country companions for a run around lake Albano to show them the glories of the Italian countryside. After, we preceded to walk into Rome and check out Santa Croce (Dr. Hatley made the sign of the cross with his laser...kind of strange). Here's the Roman sites I saw this time: the forum, St. Giovanni in Laterano, Trastevere (x4), Aventine, coliseum, etc. etc. I did a lot of Roman things this time, but I always feel as though I hadn't quite done them or something.
The importance of the break would be the fact that I realized that I'd like to spend a lot more time over there. In fact, I'm planning on moving over to Rome in April and squeeze into the tiny "Hobbit hole" or "sugar shack" that my dear friend Katie Ramsay lives in. Rome not only has sunshine but better food, lots of churches, and better curse words. The French constantly use the same one, and whenever they use it, it sounds like they're politely sneezing. In fact, a person once said, "Putane!" which translates into "prostitute" or an equivalency of "F***!" and I candidly replied, "bless you" and in English, of course.
I was also to lucky as to have the Thomas More campus in Trastevere not invite me for one dinner, but for two dinners! So I jollily broke lots of bread and pasta with Dr. Peter Connell and Dr. Mary Mumbach at their local joint, called Le Fate (or "the fairies"). Lots of Thomas More kiddies somehow knew who I was, though, I sort of felt like the sad post-grad still hanging around and living life vicariously through their new discoveries.
Alas, I had to leave bella Roma, but I came back refreshed and ready for a week adventure to Portugal with two dum-dum French chaperones and another assistant, Jenna. I say, "dum-dum" because these two chaperones probably had no clue at all what we were doing the entire time which, of course, made the situation rife for comedy. Here were the cities: Porto, Lisbon, Coimbra, Fatima, Bretalha and Abrantes. and we visited Porto and drank sweet sweet Porto (I now have a new favorite aperitif). Lisbon was amazing, an enormous city full of statues, a copied golden gate bridge and some amazing cherry liquor. Finally, Fatima was something strange. As a pilgrimage sight, I think I was expecting something that was a bit more mysterious. However, when you entered into the sanctuary, you were surprised to a completely exposed arena of a place, as though every tree has been butchered down to create this painfully open space. There are two new churches there, the site of the holy water, and a crucifix that resembles a "Honey I Blew up the CHildren" size nail. Nevertheless, it was a sacred and holy place, and something entirely alien to me. Im not quite sure if I enjoyed the architecture because it wasn't a space that comforted the soul, nor left the soul in a sort of dark, mystery (as cathedrals often do). No, it was as a desert. And perchance this is the effect that the architects had in mind when building this space. You journey to this sacred space that resembles a desert and the only spring is of holy water. In that sense, I could understand it.
Finally, Portugal was a trip full of cheese and bread sandwiches (from the Hostels we stayed at, which were surprisingly stunning), lush scenery, and lots and lots of reading time on a bus :) Thanks, John Donne and Katherine Anne Porter, I don't know what I'd do without you. Ok, Ive been going on rather long here, but I thought I'd include a slideshow of my trip and there's more to come with my adventures later. A bientot and back to speakin' with the kiddies. The weather's getting much better here, which will be great training for running a half-marathon in Rome on Palm Sunday! Bisous, baci and kisses, Cora Lou

Voyage de Roomie a Le Havre

2008-02-03T09:32:00.000-08:00

Here's my roomie, Florent, and myself in front of a fountain. Yeah, his name is Florent, like flowery :)

View right outside my window of the lovely and chilly Rouen Saturday morning

Here's a place in the city center, which looks like a typical French town (hills, benches, scary trees, etc.)

And here's Sunset at the harbor of Le Havre. C'est sympa, eh?

Alors, today I woke up fashionably late and joined my colocataire, or roomie, Florent on a journey to his hometown Le Havre. The city is one of the busiest port cities in France (its the port between Portsmouth, England and France), and it supposedly has quite a large population for a French city; however, Flo continuously reminded me that, "its industrial, eww." I have to admit, though, he showed me where his college and lycee were in the city and both resembled a mental hospital and the latter actually is across the street from the city prison. C'est normale, oui? He was ever so kind to have me over for the French dejeuner, which consisted of pasta, eggs, amazing French cheese, this tarte thing that I can't even name but just thinking about it is making me salivate, and of course, wine. ah, yes, wine. I feel like I was quite the teetotaller in America. quite. but there's no way around it, and even if you tried to avoid wine, someone might just hit you on the head with a bottle to wake you up! Wine is like water here and justly so. I felt quite honored to be invited into their home, which boasted of fine wood work (his father is a carpentar) and of course, comic strips about James Brown. Watch yourself! I tried my hardest to speak French past, "ca va, je suis tres bien." but as usual, its just progressed to, "daccord" and yes, even the fake-out yawn, "oui" (This is quite bizarre, the French will say oui when they're yawning. Its a national phenomenon, and everyone does it, even if (get this) they're not tired!). After lunch, Florent and I marched on downstairs and headed out the city of Le Havre. Strangely enough, its the only city that doesn't have the kind of history to boast of (ahem, thanks World War II); instead of a beautiful cathedral to center the town, there was this eyesore church which resembled the Empire State Building. I decided, hey, why not go inside, but as soon as I stepped in, I realized what I big mistake I made. Not only did I feel like I entered some religious sector that worshipped the God of geometry, but its utter darkness and overload of right angles made me feel as though I had stepped into Tron: the church! Tant pis! But, its alright, because the beach at Le Havre made up for the business sector church, and Florent and I made it just in time to check out the sunset on a chilly and crisp Groundhog's day. Then, Florent decided to go on a tirade of, "do you know this American seventies tv show? Or this seventies song?" I felt cheated...how did he know all this American stuff, when I can barely distinguish the difference between French hello's and goodbye's. So, my only resort was to stare at my fake converses that I just bought and sort of pretend hum along with songs Mom and Dad probably dont even know (and some French guy yelled at me on the streets to ask me had I played basketball, just because I was wearing those sneakers). Nevertheless, I have to hand it to Florent, he's quite a bon guide and I don't think Ive laughed that much in a long, long time. And his family so generously dealt with a foreigner who couldnt quite understand everything they said. So, I enjoyed Le Havre and its reconstructed heart! I hope this next week will be a little bit easier with the French children since we're talking about Valentine's day (love translates into any language..ohhh yeah). Other than that, Im sitting up in my third floor room, watching youtube videos about ballets and ballet dancers, which, in fact, has been quite pleasurable. I enjoyed a lazy Sunday and Im looking forward to a lazy next two weeks for the February vacation and on Thursday an English play in Paris! bisous and prayers, Cora Lou

Rant number 500

2008-01-30T10:56:00.000-08:00

Alors, its free mercredi for me in Rouen, and Im enjoying a bit of free time before I get up way too early to even say, "merde alors!"
In the past few days, I've come to the conclusion that I'm definitely not going to be the trop choux Franglo epicure that this program engenders...
For instance, when the French people get excited about snack time (grignotine), I'm usually thinking about some weird dance move (how the hell can Danny Tidwell do 6 pirouettes and stop in the middle of it?) or going for a walk/run.
Nor do I believe in tea times or the high-pitched and melodious giggles that accompagny them ("Oh la la, I can't believe he's wearing that, giggle giggle). Im not very good at sitting for a while and chatting about sweets or boys or sales. Nah, man, c'est tres gay.
And the food here is enticing, but honestly, It's not something that Im constantly salivating for. The opulence of a French meal and the extreme focus on the dejeuner (lunchtime) borders on the problem of equating life with food. If you design intricate and delicate courses, eating becomes an art. As does drinking, walking around the streets, shopping, and of course, conversations. Now, don't get me wrong, I can't help but love the France's insistance on breaking bread together and letting the waters of conversations flow. However, I think its the sheer dependency on a good meal, I would say, the obsession of a beautiful culture that has been bothering me about France. Everything physical, that which the eye can glimpse, ear may hear, hands gently feel, nose sniff, and the mouth taste is what becomes the center of the day, weekend, life. Yes, these things have their merits, but what about that which cannot be felt or sensed? Of course, this is a nice big ol' problem with the modern culture in general: where is the heart, the spirit of a people?
Since the cathedrals here have become nothing more than relics of the once fevered Catholics here, people saunter in fully equipped with their cameras, rushing in and out, even quicker than going to a McDonald's restaurant. Im not going to bemoan it very long because, well, its useless.
But, as much as the French say that the Americans are too fast paced and never enjoy the pleasures of life, I think there's something to be said about always desiring the physical these pleasures (ahem, centering your day around them).
I think this maybe coming from my 15 mile runs, and especially when its in the middle of winter; usually, its just me, the constant rhythm of my heart and foot, and the quiet musing of my soul for a few hours. Sometimes, its a bit much to bear; an hour into the run and Im already a bit anxious enough to walk and just stop! But this simple and long, sometimes too arduous movement allows me to calm my soul without the desires for taste, touch, smell, feel, or hearing. And then what is left is space and time, I'm here in France in the 21st century (what is boils down to). So why is France important for calming my soul...couldn't I do that anywhere?
The answer is yes and no, and what I mean to say is that space or location carries with it a spirit. No, I dont think I mean like Casper the ghost kind of spirit, but a soul. And when you experience the soul of a place (like Normandy), its a million times better than anything you could physically get your hands on. The sensual things become the jumping off point for the actual soul of this place to slowly seep in. As you watch the sheep graze in the hills, almost as if their floating on the grass, or when you encounter the multi-level lights framing the cathedral in the middle of night, as though they're lulling the town to a guided slumber, you feel a rush of unpredictable wonder that could never encompass Rome or Paris or New York.
I think what Im finally trying to get at is that France has a dark and mysterious yet simple soul to it, despite all the frou-frou shit they're always elevating to the status of a diety, which doesn't come with the galette de roi. That is the spirit that envelops this place still lingers around, despite the insistence of being divinely intricate, superb and proper; it is one of mystery as a town still crowds around the ancient cathedrals, as they still promenade in the quiet country side, and as they still gaze upon the rush of the city as it weaves in and around the bridges and the narrow streets. In short, c'est incroyable, vraiment.
God bless and good night. Cora Lou

ROUEN (ed) TIME

2008-01-27T11:38:00.000-08:00

(above is the statue of St. Denis where he stopped to wash his decapitated head after he had walked all the way from the lower valley...poor guy)

Un Bon Weekend in the lovely Rouen
I opted to not doing any traveling this weekend (except to Montmatre on Friday) and I stayed in Rouen. Surprisingly, the weather has been absolutely beautiful, especially for Norman standards (which I wont lie, arent very high). So, I walked around and scratched my head a few times and took some pictures of this hazy and lazy town. The sunset and sunrises have been fantastic, and I have been ever so lucky to find the perfect running spot! Although its 20 minutes of all uphill, its completely worth it once you reach the top!
So, its the end of January already and Im not quite sure how much of my new year's resolutions I have accomplished; I did travel to the regal territory of Tours, but I havent prayed to too many unusual saints (like St. Maclou or St. Ouest, sorry guys, Im getting there). And the preparation for Spain has been a lot of, "hmmm, this pilgrimmage is gonna be awesome, well, that said, Ill go stare at the wall for awhile." And I certainly havent coined any new French phrases, but I have sufficiently been made fun of in French...which is only fair since I make fun of the french on a daily basis. So we're even.
Rouen, though, as a city has layers upon layers of houses that sit upon the city's hill, as though they were smiling on all the on-lookers. And then there's these bridges that cover the Seine, and despite the industrial left bank, the bridges over the Seine frame the city's almost epic and expansive view. Some of my favorite runs have been over the bridges here. And the city's core, which is a street with the half-timbered facades, and a huge clock which my friends call, "the Fatty Clock" (le gros horlage), seems always to be bustling with young folk, tourists and interesting homeless men. I have to admit, the Joan of Arc church and the cathedral, as two architechtual entities, battle one another for medieval space and for contemporary space. The cathedral square stands empty and forces its onlooker to gaze at its massive beauty with all its ancient intricacies. But, Joan of Arc, and this is partially why I enjoy this place, doesn't force the viewer into such opposition. No, instead, the church both reminiscent of a fish and of a strange Bevarian home, throws the viewers attention all over, sort of like a prism. In this way, the space becomes multi-faceted, and the almost feel enchanted into the square.
Well, I just wanted to share a little thought to my Rouenese encounters. I should go ahead and finish the lesson plans I have for the chillins on Mardi Gras in BR (oh, how I miss thee king cakes). again, love and prayers to everyone! bisous, Cora Lou

My weekend in Tours

2008-01-21T04:23:00.000-08:00

Alors, Bonjour, tout le monde! I just spent the weekend in the middle of France, known as the Loire valley, where all those fancy chateaux are. Im not quite sure how poor college students and French mansions mix, but I felt regal, fo sho. Here's a bridge on the Loire river; I had a fantastic run on the side of the river on Sunday morning!
This is the main street in Tours, France; it was a cute and lively city and there must have been a cathedral on every corner we took!

Here's a labrynthe garden in the Chenonceaux kingdom :)

Here I am in front of the Amboise garden; Amboise is one the chateaux where the Medici inhabited and also where Leonardo Da Vinci spent the last years of his life as artist in residence.

Here's the Chenonceaux chateau; obviously its pretty swank since it doesn't even mind the fact that there's a river under it.

And alas, the front view of the chateau; its pretty dang melancholic, huh? That's France for you right now; I don't think there's a lick of sunshine. Even the French people's demeanors resemble the sky--bleak and incomprehensible. No wonder Sartre and all dem philosophes feel at home here.

The path unto the Chateau! Enter if you dare!

(or if you pay 7.5 euro)

Two of the girl friends I traveled with pose in front of the chateaux, or shall I say princesses? ah ha! not really.

Crazy, huh? This looks rather creepy to me, in fact. But this was one of the hallways in the huge mansion in Chenonceaux. All in all, a pretty relaxing vacation, if I do say so myself.

That's the pics for this weekend. Its still Janvier and Im anxiously awaiting fevrier, in fact, anything closer to the pilgrimmage in May.
Rouen city life est bien.

Au revoir!

Cora Lou

2008-01-15T12:26:00.000-08:00

So, Im backtracking a bit. Before I came back here to Rouen, I flew

home to Baton Rouge for three weeks just chilled a la Americaine. At the end of the vacation time, Mike, Vern, MIke's friend Joe et moi all visited a lovely and supposedly haunted plantation called the Myrtles Plantation. It was sufficiently scary but it also didnt sufficiently provide us with alcohol. Its bizarre because it reminds me a sad Giverny; maybe Monet's creepy toothless Cajin cousin lived here---Mauxney? Poor guy...he'll never measure up.
So in terms of France, well, IM bAck! The kiddies were happy to see me--no spitballs. And today we even made our own "campaign ads." One kid named Malik wrote, "Vote Malik, representing the political party" with a picture of a gun while another kid wrote, "Vote Thom, and Free the ANimals!" Im not quite sure what either mean, but I think they must be working in conjunction with one another... Free the Animals political party? I wish we had one of those in America. dang.
I moved into my apartment in Rouen and it seems to be pretty cool. No curfews or creepy one-eyed maids trying to fight me with her broom of death. I escaped. Instead, I have a very IKEA apartment with pictures of calming things on the walls. like sunsets and rain and boats. No puppies, sadly. I dont know if the French believe in puppies.
Keep them in your prayers, so that one day they may. One day.
Bisoux et God bless! Cora Lou

Buen Anno

2008-01-09T12:28:00.000-08:00

January 8th 2008
Again, I embark upon the travels through the European marvels of France, Spain, England and wherever this little ol' brain dreams is possible. Im typing this as Im waiting a whole seven hours in the airport because international flights; I get to hear all sorts of different langauges and watch scary smelly people staring into space. Not much different from teaching the little buggers in France. Its the day after the marvelous victory of the Tigers national championship (GEAUX TIGERS!!!!) and Im still a little tired from alll the festivity that Michael conjured with his plethora of alcoholic drinks. What's a Tigers game without Micheal's comments, such as, "Can your sweater vest save your team now, coachie?" In short, my 3 week utterly relaxing vacation at home was fantastic. I think all I literally did was eat good ol' Cajun food, watch lots of House episodes and worry about the future. oooo, the future, ooooo. Mama and Papa provided us with plenty of laughs, tears and beers. Wait, scratch the tears part. and add jeers, or possibly cheers? Veronica and I also ventured with ol' faithful vanny into the wilderness of the Dallas metroplex! ooo, ahh! We had a fantastic time visiting with Grandmama and feeling like fine and elegant ladies. Thank you, Grandmama. And, Vern and I rang in the new year with a bunch of yuppies...yay? I was a bit surprised not to see people saluting one another with their blackberrys. Hopefully thats not an omen or something. So, I figured Id write this blog to say what my new years resolutions shall be, since Im one of those pesky Americans who thinks life is more meaningful if I write it down on a list. So here it is:

1. Travel more places in France outside of Normandy; mmmm, possibly Asterix land! or EuroDisney. and then buy some french fries and dip them in mayonaisse (because who would think of doing that in America??? tell me, who?)

2. Pray with saints not often used. I mean seriously, there's got to be a St. Jarvens of the Rock or something and maybe he's the patron saint of airports. or puppy loving? Or puppies who love airports. Awww, isnt that precious. Id like to include them in my thoughts to God; maybe even make a super Saint league!

3. Prepare for this pilgrimmage to Spain; Vern and I are planning on walking the el camino de Santiago, so I think we have to learn spanish (because saying, I dunno, no hablas espanol, giggle, giggle, wont suffice with the Spaniards...especially in a country once infested with the Inquisition!)

4. Make fun of people more often. wait, make fun WITH people more often. So instead of buying an ice cream cone and smashing it on Veronica's face, we can share an ice cream and laugh together! I love resolutions, dont you?

5. Be healthy or something. Well, maybe Ill up the antie a bit; for every diet slip I make, (one slice of pie), one Ethopian starving child dies. Yea, crazy, but a girl's got to lose weight, you know what I mean, giggle giggle!

6. Coin some new phrases and try to pass them into everyday speech. For instance, "Hey, y'all, hows the blang blang?" creative, I know. You'll have no clue what Im talking about, but Ill make it sound like I do.
Thats all I got right now, I send my love and hopefully I can deal with zee chil-dren. Cora Lou

Christmas chez moi!

2007-12-22T11:19:00.000-08:00

Hey y'all, or shall I say Joyeux Noel? Well, I have just been spending the past few days back from France for a brief respite from zee Frenchies. The flight back was a good ol' 24 hours of constant travel in the airport and a great welcome to America, a la Fast Food and big bellied rednecks.

And its twin reunion time! Its been fantastic to spend time with Veronica, even if its just us staring at a wall--at least we're staring at a wall together! We've been eating chocolates, making weird designs for cookies, and dancing around the Christmas tree. Its funny how being home really makes you revert to your 5 year old ways.

I put some pictures up of the truffles we made along with the cookies and a picture of me with my Ashley SImpson blonde hair. Mama said, "you look like you're wearing a wig," and Papa said, "mmmmm, it doesn't quite match your skin color at all!" So, in other words, its pretty damn hot!

Other than that, we're preparing ourselves for a jolly ol' Cowan Christmas, which includes many Rome episodes, lots of alcohol, and quoting Shakespeare. Louisiana is warm and beautiful--great weather to train for the Rome marathon! I send my love and blessings to everyone! I hope you're all enjoying family and friends. I feel incredibly blessed and grateful to spend time with my family. Bisous, Cora Lou

Novembre et la vie chez lycee prison

2007-12-05T07:01:00.000-08:00

Ok, so its about time to write a dang ol letter, huh? Well, I suppose its fair...I havent been doing much these days except traveling every weekend, stuffing my face with foie gras and making a name for myself as a new french rapper---G claira. I like it--its sort of bling-blingy for french people. Ahem, not funny, okay moving on, so the past few weeks Ive been teaching the kiddies how to draw hand turkeys and about Christmas in America! I asked them to write a letter to Santa Claus and ask for what they wanted, except one of them told me that Santa Claus was a big fat lie (in English). Thats when I signalled the guards to get rid of her---the French government doesnt play around. So, other than that, there is total cooperation with the kiddies---just how I planned it. Nah, the kiddies are funny, they often say things that I dont understand, probably like, "Gosh, that American smells" or "I think she has a mustache" or "Why do we need an American assistant? We're French for crying outloud!!! We gave them their liberty!" Funny funny.

Ok, so seriously, though, I recently have spent the last month looking for a new place to live in the city of Rouen and I have found an apartment! I can now escape this little prison Im living in which has big yellow walls and beeps every hour! Apparently, theres an alarm that means all the assistants must come back before 10 PM and cant leave until after 7 AM, which is completely unfrench...I dont understand. So, Ive had enough with staying in the crazy lycee room and counting the cracks on the floor or making up French songs in m head about little foxes (yeah, dont ask). When I was in college I was "soo against watching TV" but gosh, me and HOUSE, that show gets me through some days. Sometimes I think nursing school could be just like that show, but I would be Cameron, of course. Oh! And when its gets really lonely, I usually just sit in my room and eat lots of french chocolate, which, I have to admit, is amazing. If you must get fat on something, at least get fat on something French because then you can say, well, my fat is tres superior than yours! So, by next January Ill be a city gal; I can walk around and look pretty, and also walk around and look pretty. Thats what cities are for, right? Kind of like a big runway! In the meantime, its Christmas over here in France and that means markets galore! In Gisors, even the little kids had a CHristmas market; maybe Ill have marche de Glencora before I leave and make some PB and J sandwiches or something and sell them. The French must think Im so classless. Oh right, Dublin! So, last weekend I went to visit dear ol' Joannie, or shall I say Jeanne D'Arbery and she so willingly let me smell up her place with my running shoes and eat all her food and coffee. Im learning a lot about being a guest---take, take, take! Nah, I had a fabulous time with Joan, and we laughed, talked and walked around the great city full of Irish intellects and history. I love the city; as all cities, its a bit international but its retained its flavour of heavy grease and coffee.

As all cities I visit, I explored it with my running feet and it was just phenomenal to get a city tour that way. When I run in the city, I always feel like Im partaking in its immense heartbeat; I jolt in the pulsing veins of the city streets and eventually I end at the coeur, or the heart of it all. Its funny because Dublin isnt much of a "runner's city," I was the only zipping through St. Steven's park, but to each his own. Joan lives in the middle of it all in Merrion Square and she's got quite the life! It was so cool to live the life according to Joan Arbery for a weekend, which meant conversation, relaxation, and exploration. There's probably some more -ation's that Ive forgot, but you can fill it in. And when I got sick at the end of my stay, Joanie packed a lunch for me and saw me on my way. Its wonderful to have great friends in this strange place known as Europe. For now, Im signing off, but I promise to write something a bit more substantial and, yes, even poetic, next time. Au revoir jus'qua semaine prochaine! Bisous!
Glencora

The second half of Toussaints and Puggie

2007-11-15T00:46:00.000-08:00

Ok, Im writing this blog as I listen to French news which really just sounds like a lot of bluh bluh bluh, Nicholas Sarkozy (in scary, condescending voice), bluh, bluh, bluh. Poor Sarkozy. Anywho! Here's some pictures from the weeks 2 and 3 that I forgot to put up! My colleage, Jacques took a fellow assistant and I to the little town of Giverny...pretty swank, huh? The picture almost transport you to when Monet drew them, except Im sure he wasn't bombarded with as many Asian tourists. Maybe he was...who knows! Well, it was a lovely day and we went right before it closed for an entire 5 months!!! Ok, so I also included pictures of this sweet old Peugeot that a colleague gave to me---I'll call him mon cher Puggie! Well, mon cher Puggie had many mes cher spiders! The first night it spent in my room I saw little spiders all over...it must have been around 30 of them, and I killed them all with my bare hands and not-so-bare feet. I felt like Puggie and I had made it through our first battle. Next up, Puggie and I against the Normand winds! I included a picture of the secret cathedral that Puggie and I found on our first venture to Chaumont en Vexin, about 15 km away from Gisors. Neato Bajeeto, as the French say.

Alright, and the pictures you've been waiting for: My trip to Roma baby! When I came to France they said, "drink wine, eat lots of fatty food, work a week and vacation for 2 more!" So I did and I visited my best buddy (other than Puggie) in Rome, Trastevere, to be exact. Initially, we had the intention to go into Rome and walk around and all that jazz...but had we not spent a whole semester doing that as undergrads? So, Katie and I did the postgrad bum thing...we stayed in Castelli Romani (near the UD campus) and just reaped in the benefits of being lazy in another country. We ate gnocchi, gelati, and drank lots of wine. Ive eaten enough cheese and bread in France and havent gained a pound, but Italy, ooh baby, theres no denying its power! Then Katie and I decided we'd go hiking in the Abruzzi mountains, which are north of Rome and we went hiking on their BOGUS trails. Of course Italians wouldnt mark their trails...they probably started, got pissed off at the amount of work it takes and took a cigarette break---an eternal cigarette break! Lets see, I suppose I should explain the pictures. Eh, there's one of mountains, a church made before the year 1000, a Roman sunset, lots of smiling Glencora n' Kates (in fact, a sort of creepy one, in which I look like a happy Gollum and Kate is Frodo---yikes!) Theres that picture of us petting the bear. Yeah. Oh! I got to stay with Katie's family, since she's a nanny in Trastevere, and we spoke Italian and ate with Mario, Francesca and Adriana...What a cool family!
On an end note for this entry, Im back in Gisors (for a little while) and finding out wonderful things everyday (like how at daily mass, there are only old little ladies and nuns who are excited to have me there, and have called me their, "American sister" :) God bless and I send my love to you all!

2007-11-10T00:47:00.000-08:00

The beginning of my Toussaint vacation--Bayeux

C’est amusante que j’ai deja un periode de vacances; j’ suis ete ici pour une mois--c’est toute! I’ve been here in France for a month and the French are already giving me a period off! So, I started it off with a good ol’ trip to upper Normandy near the Dday beaches in Bayeux. And, yes, we did go see the tapestries. They’re amazing and I wish I could show you pictures. Alas, they wouldn’t allow us to take any, so I’ll tell you that it’s a really really long tapestry made around 1079 (after William the Conqueror defeated King Harold the Anglo-Saxon) There! Now its almost as if you visited it yourself. it’s a stunning piece of artwork that maintains the ancient storytelling method through pictures. Tapestry, in this way, becomes another language, like stained glass, and well, French! The story takes you through Harold’s oath to King Edward to let William become king when Edward dies. Of course, Harold breaks the oath , provokes war from William on the Norman side, and the tapestry finishes with the depiction of Harold’s poetic death---an arrow through the eye! In short, the skill put into this is stunning!

Here’s a picture of my roommate, Jenna and me in front of the tapestry museum. She’s from Utah and lives in the creepy old high school with me. And here’s a picture of Veronique (an assistant from Rouen) in front of the cute ol’ windmill in the tourist town. And below are the bikes that we used to go for a ride into the Dday beaches, which also was a stunning tour of the Normandy beach side!

Here is the cemetery itself in Omaha beach. When I first came to the site, I had just finished a long, rigorous and refreshing bike ride, so I was not quite prepared for the overwhelming and inspirational cemetery. Its vast and its vastness seems to compete with the Atlantic sea itself. When you enter, the silence almost whirls you into a dizziness. It’s quite a juxtaposition of stony stillness and the ebb and flow of the tide. And the crosses are so perfectly symmetrical that it reminds you of a garden, as if the graves had been cultivated. Its certainly a breath- taking site, and I feel that every American should see it as a reminder of what we owe for even the tiniest liberties we have been given.

Ok, this picture is perfect of me all decked out in a sailor peacoat in front of the seaside! The Norman cliffs with the little seaside town are so lovely, quiet and foggy! There was a market which sold a lot of fish and live crabs! Woo hoo!

Its funny because every shot becomes a postcard, and this ones no exception! Walking along the cliffs, I felt like a Romantic poet, maybe like Chateaubriand--lurking and being melancholic because NO ONE understands me : )

So theres a bit from Bayeux, dear fam and friends...now its back to real life!!! Which is just lots more traveling, running, and messing up a lot of french! Caen, France next weekend, then Dublin, then again to Rome, then Paris then HOME for Christmas! woo...with some breathing in between. Much love to all!

Recap of Month Numbre Un in France

2007-10-19T06:26:00.000-07:00

Top Ten things I have learned
10. Saying "I'm excited" does not translate exactly into french. at all. Dont try it with adolescent children unless you want to be pointed at.

9. Dance is a universal language; in fact, you can make up a language, neither French, English or Franglish; while teaching dance and people will understand. If you mean "with quickness," you can say "cha!" and it works, I promise.

8. America pop culture is everywhere! French people look at you like you' re nuts when you say something in English but then they proceed to sing "Its a kind of magic!" (by Queen) entirely in English with a bizarre smile on their faces. C' est la vie!

7. I have never had such a good coffee fro, a vending machine as I have here in the professors' study room! I suppose its what keeps them going!

6. No, Veronica, there is no cereal called "petit poulets nagent en lait" but there is chocolate EVERYTHING! There's probably a chocolate car being driven by a chocolate man at this very moment in le paysage du chocolat!

5. People eat supper so late here that I have literally almost banged my head against the table from fatigue; Im talking 10 p.m. and later!

4. When you ask to borrow a bike, you may, in fact, receive 2 of them!

3. The French care a lot about labels, not much about exercise, a lot about American T V shows Ive never seen, they eat American food but say they hate it, and finally imagine Americans sitting on their couches eating PB& J sandwiches while resting their guns on their beer bellies and watching Jerry Springer.

2. Everywhere is beautiful, seriously, even the gas stations are beautiful. I have been blessed everyday with natural beauty, ancient beauty and modern beauty in this small village!

1. You can get better at speaking a language you barely know in a month...il y a d' espoir! In fact, some people may even find you endearing for your ignorance!

Lastly, i ve begun to real job here--teaching the children of Gisor the boons of the English language and Im coming to be so thankful for growing up in cajun country of Louisiana--a tremendous help! ahem, also the tremendous help of growing up in a household of Anglophiles :) Ive also come to see how well the French use their free time; leisure is not a guilty pleasure, it is a necessity of life and we must well enjoy out leisure time fully. For me, thats the realization that I should be enjoying now and not always planning things for the great, big dark and scary future. Life here is much slower than I had expected and because of it; you' re able to calm down and, well, enjoy the present moment; in short, life has become more conducive to meditation in its many forms :)

To all my Cowan family, y' all would love it here-, i miss you dearly and I am terribly sad that I cant watch the Tigers with you, go climbing with you at Thanksgiving (Claire, you know I would! and the invite to Founteanbleu is open for ANYTIME...I have a friend who's already done some climbs over there, albeit bouldering), laugh and watch old Simpsons with you, and well, just talk, walk and enjoy the weird things we all say and do. Vern---find a way and get your butt over here!

To all my friends, I hope that you can find a way to visit Paris and if you can...you have A FREE PLACE TO STAY (think of the money you'll save!) Id love to travel with some more people, and show anyone this wonderful country. a tout a lheure for this week! Beaucoup de mon amour!

Beautiful Fall Days in Gisors

2007-10-09T04:37:00.001-07:00

Here is the Rouen cathedral and its just lovely...I believe it has some part of Richard the lion-hearted--maybe his lion heart? Who knows? Im obviously terrible with this tourist thing. I certainly enjoyed walking in this huge and elaborate cathedral which depicted the story of St. Julien l'hospitalier on the vitrines--c'etait tres magnifique!
The picture of the sign is where Joan of arc was burned at the stake, right near the aquarium, er modern eglise.

Here is the statue of the metal guy who guards the town...I usually run by him in the mornings, " bonjour, metal guy!"

And here is the Eiffel tower on a lovely Saturday admist the 4 break dancing groups...yes four! "Tu veux the hip hop?"

Yes, this is where I'm living...in a fort. I love it, I get to say things like, "YOU SHALL NOT PASS"

Finally, these are all the pictures of a day by the fort/castle in Rouen. It is rather small, but its rather close to other petite towns and gosh, I even ran into a race yesterday morning for my long run ( the race was called the Foie Gras 5k...kind of ironic) The French talk about an obesity problem, or a problem with zee fat in France. Ah ha! I just think its funny because they sound so concerned but all really could care less...why would you give up pain au chocolat and smoking if you really didnt have to? So the past week I have been going to classes and getting children to ask about me. They all seem to like some show called Prison Break and a movie called Honey (whih they say "On-ney. " And...me and my big mouth, I get to teach the french chillens Hip Hop classes every weeek...so Im looking forward to teaching dance with zee hip hop. The next weeks look like visits to small towns in Normandy and for Thanksgiving its ROMA! but ill think of all you"s Americans as I run past a Paterissie and Boucherie (can you guess what they ate today...RABBIT! lapin!) poor vegetarien Glencora! Au revoir for now and I send you all my love! Cora Lou

Journeys to Paris and teaching les enfants

2007-10-04T01:08:00.000-07:00

a medieval museum in paris...and very quiet for a Sunday afternoon...I loved it!

the garden in the Roden museum...so silent and, well, romantic. Im surprised not to find Chateubriand walking around there!

Cest les trois sirenes...pour toi, veronique et therese, et liz

c' est le pont sur le seine dans le jour sombre

Luxembourg jardin

La cathedrale de Rodin, possibly my favorite sculpture, and maybe because his conception of the hands as the conduit for praise and sacredness really is just lovely!

"Do you have a man alive?" was one of the first questions I received this morning from the French children. I suppose he was trying to ask if I had a boyfriend, so I responded, I have both a man and a women and some children, too, who are alive :) Of course, he looked a bit confused!
Gisors is rainy and humide, sort of like a colder Louisiana and well, i can see why all the intellectuals brood, er, I mean live here. No, really, its stunning here; even on wet and rainy days, I feel like its just gorgeous. On the next post, Ill put up some pictures of the castle and the cathedral (which are both empty most the time, of course) but they are some wonderful sanctuaries! I hear from mama that the Tigers are kicking some major butt; alas, the one time Im away from the states! Nevertheless, I get to watch the old men playing a game called Petonk nearby and also get to eat all kinds of cheeses and breads, wines and well good stuff!
Last weekend i visited paris and went to the Musee Rodin and saw all the parts of the gates of hell in full splendor; Im hoping to put up the pictures right away so that you may see them. Also, a friend from America lives right by Notre Dame, so he toured us around and we had a good ol' time walking along the Seine...just stunning and not as dirty as the Tivere in Rome. I also walked around some gardens where Parisians randomly put in metal sculptures into gardens to represent the "the melange" of contemporary art and medieval gardens...alors, silly Parisians!
This week, after being entirely confused and full of headaches after long days of "pouvez vous m'aider?" I went to a dance class, a ballet class and finally felt like we all spoke the international language of dance! Never in my life has French been more comprehensible and fluid then in that ballet class! Donc, I must go for now, but if you need an idea for dinner, how about somes mussels and fries? Je vous envoie mon joie et mon amour! Geux Tigers! Glenc

2007-09-28T03:19:00.000-07:00

Heres un bon jour de Gisors; c' est trés jolie, n' est-ce pas?

Et ma chambre- c' est simple, mais ça suffit.

Une chemin de porte bleu, comme le Matrix, tu sais?

And heres the a nice lil ol scooter in front of the town center on an unusually un rainy day in Normandie.

Heres a picture of the victor hugo wall at the school! I work with les enfants dans le collège.

the first week dans le france

2007-09-27T00:10:00.000-07:00

Hello, everyone! ou Bonjour, tout le monde! instead of writing mass emails, I thoughtI would go ahead and create a web blog to update you guys on my adventures in france and in Gisors! Im awfully busy for this first week, but ive found time to converse with the crazy lady who looked like a vampire, and surprisingly i have found from the deep recesses of my brain a way to go ahead and remember weird french phrases ( theres a lot of "puis-je" and "est-ce que vous savez?") ca c"est bon! M. Gaurin has been taking good care of ,e although I have been butchering the French language. I usually don't mind being silent and trying to pick up phrases, but the other assistant seems to get annoyed with how clueless I am... uhoh! Nevertheless, I have already walked around the city and it is very lovely; the professors I am working with are just great, in fact one of them would like to take ballet lessons with me.

Life, of course, as Court said, is very different here, and i have really enjoyed it thus far. Its cold and rainy one moment and the next its beautiful and sunny. Apparently, I have the whole weekend starting jeudi aprem ( thursday afternoon) until sunday to travel which should be awesome.

ALSO, if you would like to call me, it is free for me to receive incoming calls but it cost international for you to make. so, if you're feeling especially kind and want to give Cora Lou a call; my number is 06 42 31 97 05 and the country code is 33 ( qnd you hqve to dial 00 before that).

M; Gauren has taken the liberty to get me all set and Im doing my first travel to Paris this weekend and staying with a friend there, so there will be more pictures and travel stories later. Please pray for me that my french gets better and that I can get along just fine with the other french assistant. I love you all and I am thinking of all. I must go now, but I will be posting very soon!